by Cox, Chloe
She stood up and felt her blood rush away from her head while her heart pounded in her chest. She had no clue if this was a good idea or not, but it still somehow felt like something she had to do.
The only trouble was she had no idea what she was going to do.
***
Cate pulled into the Volare compound with something approaching trepidation. By the time she aShee time ctually got out of the car, it was full-on panic. She’d somehow forgotten that this was the one place where keeping her professional life separate from her personal life no longer worked. Soren was the man who could see through her, who already had a piece of her that no one else had seen. And the truth was that Jason’s antics were wearing her down. Every day she felt the strain, and every day she was worried that she’d crack and reveal herself as a woman who let herself get kicked around.
And she was here as the lawyer who was supposed to kick ass, instead.
And there was Soren. This man she was unaccountably attracted to, the man she now thought of as a Dom—as her Dom, good Lord—was now accused of abusing a sub.
She could really, really pick ‘em.
Cate took a moment to smooth down her skirt, her hair, her top. Took a moment to put on her game face. And then she walked inside the club.
And the first thing she saw was Soren.
Off in the back corner, under a single, swaying light, playing pool by himself. His forehead creased with lines, his eyes intense, his muscles rippling with unreleased tension. He looked like he needed something to whale on, and yet every movement was controlled, calm, fluid.
Cate took a moment to stare.
Then she snapped herself out of it. Good Lord, she’d met this man once—why was this so important to her?
Did it matter? Maybe it just was. Like Soren had reminded her: some things just are. She just needed to hear it from him. Needed to watch him as he told her whatever it was he was going to tell her. Needed to see if she’d imagined everything, if this man really had recognized things in her because he understood, or because he was…like Jason.
Because Jason had a talent for finding her weak spots, too. It was just that men like Jason found them and then applied pressure to the point of pain. She’d thought that Soren was different. She’d felt that he was different.
Hadn’t she?
“Oh, fuck it,” she said. She hadn’t been able to look away since she’d entered the building. No point in just staring.
Easier said than done. Every step closer brought her blood pressure a little higher, made her pulse a little faster, made her breathing a little more ragged. The man loomed large even from far away. Nothing but a white tank top, tattoos, jeans, and that golden scruff on his jaw. And on his chest, and his arms. Jesus, his arms. She could see every defined muscle under his golden skin, every taut line, every flex and release.
He was freaking hypnotizing. She’d never had such trouble focusing. Cate was always on point when she was working, always ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room, or n the rand now in this moment all she could think about was what it would feel like to run her tongue over each and every one of those abs.
What it would feel like to have his weight on top of her.
Inside her.
This is a big deal, Cate. Get your head in the game.
She was only saved when Soren looked up and saw her.
Cate was as dressed down as her wardrobe would allow. But walking toward Soren as he looked up and took her in, she realized that while she dressed for many reasons—to intimidate, to distract, to persuade—she never dressed for fun. And based on the effect she was having on Soren, dressing for fun could be…very fun indeed.
His eyes never left hers as he put down his pool cue. As he walked toward her.
As he took her hand and pulled her toward him.
Cate was caught off guard, caught breathless and unprepared. She blinked, a little bit bewildered, a little bit dazzled by his touch. His nearness. It wasn’t just his hand, engulfing her own like a giant paw. Cate could have sworn she could feel the length of him against her, could feel his eyes on her.
“Oh God,” she whispered.
Not exactly off to a professional start.
He was looking at her strangely. Intensely. Those lines in his forehead, around his mouth, they made him look…she wasn’t sure. Upset? Aggrieved?
“Cate,” he said. “Do you still believe me?”
His voice was hoarse. Rough. His hand heavy over her own, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. And it occurred to her that this was important to him, too. This question. And her answer.
That was interesting.
“Not as a lawyer,” he said, urgently. “Not as my lawyer. As you, Cate. Do you think I could have done this?”
Cate realized she was shaking her head, even as she was looking for the words. A few minutes before and she would have given a very rational, detached answer, careful to separate herself from the attraction she felt to him, to distance herself from this insane physical chemistry. She would have said there was no way to know without knowing what the allegations were, without knowing more about him.
But standing in a dark spot between the overhead lights in a back corner of Club Volare, studying Soren Andersson’s tortured face as he asked her this question, she felt an impossible conviction. A stupid conviction, really.
She was absolutely certain that he hadn’t done whatever it was he was accused of, and that was…God, that was dumb.
“Cate?” he said, his voice lower. He hadn’t moved.
Cate stood there, silent and dumbfounded, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in her own head. What got to her was the horror on Soren’s face. It wasn’t wounded pride, and it wasn’t outrage; it was true horror, like he knew exactly what it was he’d been accused of, and it was the worst thing he could have imagined.
And then a whole bunch of light bulbs went off in Cate’s head at once. She thought about all the stuff she’d learned in the Savage Hearts book, how careful Soren was with Declan and Molly, how he took blame on himself. About how careful he had been with her, about how he’d recognized things she hadn’t even been able to articulate.
Soren knew what abuse looked like. Soren knew what it felt like to be hurt.
“Oh my God,” she said. She looked up into his face, and couldn’t stop herself from saying it. “No. No, I don’t think you did it. I am so afraid I’m going to regret this, but I don’t think you could have done…I don’t think you could have hurt anyone. Not in the way they’re alleging.”
Cate stared at him. At the blond hair falling across his face, the muscle clenching in his jaw, the light in his eyes. She was an idiot. She was sure he was being set up and all she wanted to do was touch him, and that made her an idiot.
“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Don’t lie,” he snapped.
Cate licked her lips. “Right. Total honesty. You know, sometimes lies aren’t about…lying. Sometimes they’re about protecting yourself.”
“Not from me.”
That voice.
“Fine,” she snapped back. Why the hell was she talking? Why did she feel compelled to answer? “Because I think I just figured out how you saw through me on Friday. I think you recognized part of yourself. I think that part of you…couldn’t have done whatever it is they’re saying you did. And I think it’s totally fucking crazy that I’m saying any of that.”
Soren exhaled slowly, and the tension seemed to go out of his body. His eyes got lighter somehow, happier. His fingers started to toy with hers.
She could watch him forever. She still hadn’t said anything about the fact that he was touching her.
Soren smiled and said, “Why is it crazy?”
“Because I don’t know you,” Cate said, swallowing. The heat in her core was becoming unbeara1" ming unble. She was afraid to move, and give herself away. “Because we don’t know each other.”
“Can yo
u ever really know anyone?”
She grinned. “That line hasn’t worked on me since freshman year.”
He smiled back, and then his voice dropped. Serious. Soft. “Fair enough. You ever really let anyone know you?”
Cate gasped, unable to hide her reaction. The answer, of course, was a resounding no. As though that would ever be an option, something she could possibly consider, something that would ever feel safe to her.
Which, fine, that was her thing, how she was built, her hang-up. But how did he know?
“How do you know that?” she said.
Slowly he started to pull her backwards, towards the pool table and the couch against the back wall. She didn’t resist.
“Same way you know I didn’t do anything,” he said.
“So wishful thinking,” she said.
“Sure,” Soren grinned. “Call it whatever you want.”
He still hadn’t let go of her hand. She hadn’t let go of his, either. Something between them seemed to pulse, stronger and stronger, seemed to keep time with her heartbeat, with the growing pressure inside of her. Under the light over the pool table, his blond hair glowed almost white.
“I believe you,” she said. “But trust me, I’m going to verify. I have investigators.”
“Good.”
“Good, then.”
They were past the pool table now, back into darkness, heading toward that couch. What was she doing? This was insane. Why the hell couldn’t she stop walking? Why couldn’t she take her hand away?
“I have one rule, Cate,” Soren said.
“Just one?” she breathed. That was almost disappointing.
She saw those teeth flash again. “One big rule. I make up the others as I go along.”
“What is it?”
“I told you. Total honesty. Nonnegotiable. That’s my hard limit. You know what that is?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. ‘Hard limit’ was official BDSM speak. They were really talking about this.
“And in return,” Soren said, holding her gaze, “I make sure you can tell me anything and be safe. Deal?”
Cate swallowed. That was…that was asking a lot. Revealing that much of herself—that was not something she’d ever done before. Ever. That was something she wasn’t sure she knew how to do. Something that seemed so easy for other people, so natural, something she envied so much.
And this was her shot.
“Deal,” she said, before she could talk herself out of it. “I think. I haven’t…I don’t know.”
She didn’t know how to finish. Soren just smiled, gently this time.
“You have a history of abuse?” he said. “Someone hurt you?”
Cate felt hot, felt nauseous, felt small and barely able to speak. She’d never said it out loud before, not really.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Me, too,” he said.
“I know.”
This time Soren laughed, a soft, deep rumble. “Of course you do,” he said.
Oh, holy shit.
Cate’s mind spun at approximately ninety miles per hour while the phrase “total honesty” flew around her head like a piece of shrapnel. Total honesty—that would mean telling him about Jason, right? Did it have to? Every thought of Jason, every reminder that she was still married to him, every day she had to worry about what he would do next, made her feel weaker. Made the division she kept between her private life and her professional life harder to maintain, made the mask of competence and confidence that she wore feel more brittle, more fragile. Every day she was afraid it would crack and she’d be revealed as the kind of woman who allowed herself to be abused. As a fraud. As someone no one would respect. As the most real, honest, ugliest version of herself.
And goddammit, she didn’t want to be that person anymore. She couldn’t tell Soren, she couldn’t tell anyone; she was pretty sure she couldn’t physically do it. The idea was just too humiliating. She didn’t want to be that person with Soren. Soren, who might be the only person she’d trust to understand that. To understand why she’d need to be this new version of herself, this woman who could do something like submit?
Soren, who couldn’t cheat on her. Who wouldn’t ask anything more of her. And who needed her to be his freaking lawyer.
Cate felt paralyzed while the different versions of herself fought it out, merged, split apart, crashed back together again. Which was just as well—they’d reached the very back of the room. Soren sat down on the arm of the couch and studied her.
He smiled.
“Ford was very careful to mention that you werenion you wert officially my lawyer until I signed a retainer agreement,” he said.
Cate licked her lips. She was standing right in front of him, his legs spread slightly, knees on either side of her. He still had her hand.
“I brought it with me,” she said.
“What happens if I’ve had you before you become my lawyer?”
Cate laughed slightly. “No rule against that,” she said. “Pre-existing relationship.”
“Interesting.”
Cate closed her eyes briefly, opened them again, just to find those ice-blue eyes still staring at her. She felt like she couldn’t get enough air. She felt like she was going to explode.
“If you’ve ‘had’ me?” she asked with a smile.
Soren laughed again, that low, rumbling sound. “You’ll know when it happens.”
Chills. She got actual chills.
Something changed.
Suddenly Cate became very aware that they were not entirely alone. It was just them in this part of the club, this little side wing of the first floor of what she was just now realizing was actually a huge, multi-story building. But there were people at the bar behind her, just a few. She could hear them now, suddenly, out of nowhere, loud and intrusive and very much within earshot.
Soren pulled on her, brought her another step closer.
“You need both, Cate,” he said. “You need to submit, you need the case. I need both too.”
“You do?” she said. She sounded all breathy. It was weird.
“Fuck yes, I do,” he said.
God, how did he do it? How did he sit there, this stack of hard muscle leaning back against the wall, his long legs now on either side of her, looking coiled and relaxed all at once. Like he was ready to pounce, and completely sure of the outcome when he did. Infuriating and still hot as hell.
He breathed deep, his chest rising, and exhaled slowly. And he brought her another step forward. “Tell me why you’re scared,” he said.
Cate laughed, a thin sound, like she couldn’t believe it wasn’t obvious. But it wouldn’t be obvious, would it? So why did she think he’d understand?
And yet…
“I don’t know if I can be…this, and Cate Kennedy at the same time,” she said, hating how it sounded. “And I know you need a lawyer, you need me as a lawyer, and—” p> span>
“They’re the same person,” he interrupted.
Cate shook her head, trying to remember words while feeling the heat of his thigh against her leg, the pad of his thumb brushing the back of her hand. Words. There were words for this.
Only there weren’t, really, because she knew it didn’t make sense, it wouldn’t make sense to anyone but her. It didn’t even make sense to her, strictly speaking, it just was, and it was something she had to live with, and…
Oh, goddammit, you are NOT going to cry.
“Cate,” Soren said, his voice cutting through the nonsense ricocheting around her head. “Look at me. I’ll show you.”
She looked at him. She couldn’t look anywhere else. He would show her?
“Ok?” he said.
Dumbly, she nodded. “Ok,” she said.
With a satisfied growl he pulled her to him, pushing one leg between hers. Cate fell forward, her hands planted on his chest, his thigh pressed between her legs. Her mouth fell open in surprise.
Then she felt his hands on her hips.
<
br /> Felt him pulling her up his leg until she straddled him. Felt him raise his thigh between her legs.
Heard herself gasp.
“Look at me,” he said.
God, that face. Chiseled, unyielding, intense. The eyes unwavering, piercing, mesmerizing.
And now his hands, those big hands wrapping around her hips, his fingers tugging the hem of her skirt higher and higher. Cate’s breaths came faster and faster, the sounds of the people at the bar got louder and louder.
“What are you doing?” she said.
He didn’t answer her. Just smiled slightly. Like he wouldn’t answer questions she already knew the answer to.
Then he bucked his leg.
“Jesus,” she heard herself moan. She dug her fingers into his chest and bit her lip, embarrassed. He’d positioned her so her full weight rested on his thigh between her legs and somehow put pressure right where it counted, and the sensation had arced through her like lightning. She couldn’t believe it. He could make her moan just by…
“Oh God,” she said.
His other hand was roving.
Inside her tailored jacket, up hrt jacket,er side, over her breast. Not even a little bit shy. Her eyes widened and she looked at him, not totally sure what she was supposed to do, to say. This was a ridiculous situation. He was her client, a rock star, a stranger, and his hand was pulling down the neck of her top, her bra, his thumb finding her nipple.
“Fuck, Soren,” she panted. “There are people…right…over there.”
His grin was positively evil.
“There sure are,” he said. “Which makes what you’re about to do so much hotter.”
“What I’m about to—”
Soren didn’t let her finish. He took a fistful of her hair in his hand, pulled her down onto his chest, and claimed her mouth with his own.
Cate melted.
His lips were surprisingly soft and the bristle on his jaw just rough enough, and damn, did the man know how to use his tongue. The warmth, the wetness, the perfect pressure, the way he licked her top lip and then sucked on the bottom one—all of it left her in a daze. So much so that when he finally pulled back, his eyes shining, it took her a second to realize she was squeezing her thighs around his leg, her panties damp, her breast nearly popped out, her hair disheveled.
